


O My Heart

by threadmyneedle



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff and Angst, Human!Everyone Else, M/M, No one knows what's going on, POV Alternating, Slow Burn, mermaid!au, merman!bucky barnes, neither do I honestly, rated for language
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2020-03-30 02:59:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19033384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/threadmyneedle/pseuds/threadmyneedle
Summary: '“Oh my god, it is a body.”“Will you stop it?”“Why not just ask Natasha? She definitely knows how to hide a body.”“Tony!”'





	O My Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all, I just want to thank my dear friends for entertaining this silly AU with me! You know who you are. Enjoy!

“Tony!” a familiar voice shouts with relief, crackling loudly through his phone speaker. 

“Ehh yes?” the man in question drawls, tiredly squinting across his work table to fumble for a new tool. A vintage bike engine laid out across the workspace in dozens of pieces. The silvery metal glints in the sharp, artificial lights of his basement. Tony rubs at his eyes with the heels of his grungy hands. “‘Sup, Rogers? You’re on speaker.”

“Ah, were you awake? Sorry if I woke you up, I--”

“Oh you know, just working on a little project, nothing special,” Tony interrupts, knowing full well the other was nervously rambling and he really didn’t have the energy to keep up with it. “What time is it? Nevermind. What do you need, Steve?”

“2:42,” Steve says guiltily. “You know I hate to bother but uh, I’ve kinda got a situation here.”

“That’s very specific.”

“ _ Tony _ ,” Steve says seriously, then sighs. “Sorry, I just. . . I need somewhere to go and I really don’t know anyone else who could help. I have. . . something I need you to look at.”

“Y’know, I love getting into non-descript  _ ‘situations _ ,’ but you’re gonna have to give me more to go on, bud.”

“Well, the  _ ‘situation’  _ is in the back of my truck and I don’t know how much longer he’s got,” Steve says with an edge. “You still have that stupidly giant bathtub?”

Tony squints suspiciously. “Excuse me? What are you playing at, Rogers? What do you mean ‘ _ he _ ?’”

“Do you?”

“Well, yeah, but--”

“Okay, good, I’m on my way.”

“Steve?” he asks, but the line has gone dead. His head thunks against the table with a loud, long, beleaguered sigh. “Fuck.”

\----

Tony startles awake when the doorbell rings. He groans, slowly crawling out of the basement and dragging himself to the front door. He must have passed out after the call. The bell rings twice more before he reaches the door, swinging it open to find a very anxious looking Steve Rogers, all 220 pounds of him nervously jittering on his doorstep. 

His face breaks out into a reserved but relieved smile the moment the door opens. It’s definitely the happiest he’s ever looked to see him. He’s still in uniform, a pair of bright red trunks and a white tee shirt. Both cling to him: damp and covered in sand as if he’d just left the beach, even though his shift should have ended hours ago. There’s a dark smear across his cheek that looks suspiciously red in the golden porchlights. 

“I expect a full explanation, yeah?” Tony says, jabbing a finger at the blond’s chest. “Get in here, I guess.”

“Actually. . .” Steve says sheepishly. “He’s in the car.”

“So you did say ‘he.’ Alright, ‘fess up. Now,” Tony demands. “What the fuck is going on? Please tell me there’s not some poor schluck in the back of that damn truck, because no offense, but it kinda seems like you’re asking me to hide a body.” Steve looks supremely unimpressed. “ _ Are _ you asking me to hide a body?”

“What? No! I. . . I think you better come with me,” Steve says grimly. He starts down the driveway and Tony takes a minute to ask whatever deity thinks his life is so funny, “why me?” before following.

He drags his bare feet against the pavement, rounding the corner to see Steve dropping the tailgate of his shitty old truck to reveal a pile of what looks like. . . damp beach blankets and towels? Under which is a considerably large lump.

“Oh my god, it is a body.”

“Will you stop it?”

“Why not just ask Natasha? She definitely knows how to hide a body.”

“Tony!”

“Okay, okay, fine.”

“You have to promise me you’ll wait to freak out, okay?” Steve asks as his hands hesitate over the lump. “I need your help first.”

“Wow, you sure know how to make a guy feel not-freaked-out,” Tony snarks to hide his increasing dread. He crosses his arms over his bare arms as every worst-case scenario runs through his mind. Mostly those involving them having to hide a cadaver. “Sure, sure. Just rip it off already.”

Steve gives him one last look, then pulls the sheets off, agonizingly slow. The towels slip away, revealing the huge, mottled form. . . of a  _ shark? _ Unlike any he’d seen before. Tony lets himself be a  _ little  _ relieved that it’s not actually a corpse. No, it’s not a shark either, though. Steve ever so carefully gathers the creature in his arms, cradling what looks like the torso of  _ a man _ , sat atop the serpentine body. A white towel with a huge dark stain is wrapped around the human shoulders and chest. Silvery scales gleam in the moonlight.

“What. The. Fuck.”

He gives him a very pointed look. “I can’t carry him by myself, you gonna lend a hand or just stand there and gawk some more?”

Tony would be more than happy to stand and gawk, except the thing starts  _ stirring _ , and his instinct to flee gets the better of him, shuffling back. The human looking half weakly wiggles in Steve’s grasp for a second, not even opening its eyes before falling completely limp again. Unconscious. He doesn’t know whether it’s a good or bad thing that it’s apparently still alive.

“Well shit, Rogers,” Tony splutters. “What the fuck  _ is  _ that? Is that  _ blood _ ?” 

“I don’t know!” Steve hisses back, trying to keep his voice down. He takes a deep breath. “Listen, are you gonna help or not? We’re kind of on the clock here.” When Tony hesitates he huffs and says, “I’ll tell you everything, I promise, just get over here already.”

“Okay, okay, okay. . .” Tony chants, uneasily stepping forward and reluctantly outstretching his hands. Steve rolls his eyes and pushes the creature’s long tail into his arms. He flinches at the damp, oddly sleek and oddly cool skin, then almost sinks under the full weight of the beast. “Oh-- holy shit.”

“Yeah,” he grunts as they heft the body up and off of the bed of the truck. The creature is long, easily up to nine or ten feet from head to. . . tail tips, and must be around 300 pounds. The tail is huge, taking up most of the body mass, but the human half? Third? Definitely isn’t small. While not quite as big as Steve, it is pretty stocky. Obviously bigger than Tony. Seeming to sense his train of thought, Steve says, “No gawking. C’mon. Bath.”

The two awkwardly shuffle through the mansion, hastily squeezing through the door to the master bedroom’s bathroom. Tony quickens his pace when he realizes that the towel has started dripping. They gently set the body on the tile floor, Steve grabbing the nearest towel off a rack to pillow its head with, because of course he does.

The creature seems remarkably -- almost terrifyingly -- human in this light. It looks like a young man, not any older than either of them, with long brunet hair and scruff that frames a charming face. The few patches of skin that aren’t scaly, are olive but pale from blood loss. However, that’s where the human aspects stop. 

Steve reaches for the reddened towel but hesitates, glancing up at Tony nervously, who says, “So it’s that bad, huh?”

“I have no idea how he’s still alive,” he admits.

He takes a deep breath and begins to peel away the red cloth, which is soaked through and clings to the not-quite-human looking body. It comes away and Tony blinks, before quickly looking away, gut roiling. In place of what would have been its left arm is a stump that ends just below the bicep, which is wrapped but soaked through. It’s a clean break. 

“Shark attack,” Steve voices what he had suspected. “I knew enough to keep him from bleeding out entirely, but. . .”

“Yeah,” he breathes. “Yeah. Okay. I can’t do this.”

Steve’s face falls. Tony sighs, knowing he’ll regret it, and finally says:

“But I know someone who can.”

**Author's Note:**

> I love and appreciate any and all feedback! Let me know what you want to see in this story! And have a great day everyone :)! (The next chapter will be up soon!)


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